And, say, he sticks to it. No, Sir, I can't push him in there with Veronica again. I had him out on the front steps for fifteen minutes, tryin' to argue some sense into him; but all he wants to do is go jump off the rocks into the Sound and have me tell Aunty he died disgraced but happy. Fin'ly, though, he agrees to wait while I go sleuthin' in and find whether Veronica has rushed in tears to Daddy, or is still curled up on the davenport bitin' the cushions in rage.
I slips into the livin' room, where I find 'em addin' up the scores and talkin' over the last hand, but otherwise calm and peaceful. Then I opens the door soft into the next room, steps in, and shuts the door behind me. No wild sobs. No broken furniture. There's Veronica, rockin' back and forth under the readin' light, with a book in her lap.
"Well?" says I, waitin' breathless for the storm to break.
She gives a little jump, glances up quick, and pinks up like a poppy. "Oh!" says she, "It's you?"
"Uh-huh," says I. "I—er—I've just been talkin' with Dudley."
"Ye-e-es?" says she, rollin' a leaf of the book over her finger nervous and droopin' her long lashes.
"You see," says I, fidgetin' some on my own account, "he—he's goin' home in a minute or two."
"Oh, is he?" says she. "There! And I meant to ask him if he wouldn't call to-morrow. Won't you do it for me, Mr. McCabe?"
How about that for a reverse jolt, eh? I backs out of the room lookin' foolish. And Dudley he near collapses when I brings him the glad news.
As for Sadie, she couldn't believe me at all when I tells her Dudley looks like a sure winner. She had to wait until a few days later when she catches 'em just breakin' a clinch, before she'll admit I ain't stringin' her.